Homing Instinct
by ahkurosa
Summary: Tony knows he'll find Gibbs. The question is, will he find Gibbs in time? HurtGibbs, protectiveTony. Beware, lots and lots of fluff. Not slash just family. ON HAITUS
1. Chapter 1

So I've noticed, Tony's always the one to get his butt saved. Figured it would be fun if it were the other way around. Oh and this is set at season 4 shortly after Gibbs's return. Enjoy :)

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**Thursday, 2:17 P.M.**

It was cold.

No, a man who looked to be in his late forties let out a sharp gasp as his senses came flooding back to him. It was _freezing_.

The air was chilly with a bite that made the man instinctively shove his fingers in his armpits. Using what little body warmth he had, the man tried to calm the shaking from his hands but soon realized the problem was not from the cold.

It was from the hot sticky substance on his hands that smelled suspiciously like steel.

I'm bleeding The man realized. He cracked one eyelid open in an attempt to confirm but quickly closed it again. The whole ordeal of waking up to look for an open wound when it was so utterly dark, and when every part of his body was screaming in pain just seemed like a waste of the scarce energy he had left. But then again, if he bled out and died, it would defeat the purpose of saving his energy.

Biting down a groan, the injured man opened his eyes once more and very slowly, began to pull himself up. It was a painful procedure, but he found that while his left wrist was probably sprained, his right arm was in good use. And that most of the pain, was coming from his leg. Specifically, his right thigh. His pants were already soaked and judging from the fresh smell of blood, it hadn't been long since he'd been hurt.

**Thursday, 2:17 P.M**.

"Agent DiNozzo! Sit-rep!" The Director of NCIS demanded as she stepped off the elevator. Unlike her usually professional self, she was in casual apparel, but the faded jeans and box T-shirt did not lessen the sting of the glare she threw at the agents on the dim-litted floor. "Why is it only NOW that I hear about Agent Gibbs's disappearance?"

"I don't know Director," Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo swiftly walked towards her and stepped into her line of sight, effectively blocking her way into the bullpit. His voice was sweet as-no sweeter than- honey but Jenny Shepherd was close enough to see into the agent's eyes. The green eyes reflected determination so fierce it boarded an icy coldness she didn't know the Italian was capable of. "Maybe it's because we were out of stock on straws and nobody had the guts to wake the Director at one in the morning-"

"Special Agent DiNozzo!"

"Or maybe it's because we were informed barely thirty minutes ago and didn't have the time!" Tony snapped as he glared right back at the woman. He was being rude but they would have to deal about it later. The only thing that mattered right now was not Tony's ass, but Gibbs'. Gibbs was missing with possibly a life-threatening injury and Tony was not going to let the Director take the lead; he had to have Gibbs's six.

Jenny nodded curtly, understanding the reason behind the agent's snarl. However she felt inclined to grab his arm and ask.

"If I hadn't called you, would you have told me?"

The answer was clear from the sly smile the Italian gave her but before anything, Agent Timothy McGee interrupted.

"Wait, you called Tony? At two in the morning? Why?"

_Busted._ Jenny winced inwardly as she realized her mistake. She would just glare McGee away if she could, but Ziva was watching with a raised eyebrow, a sure sign of interest. Of course if asked, the Mossad Agent would keep her silence but Jenny wasn't ready to let anybody else in; Rule 4 existed for a reason.

"Excellent point McGee," Tony broke into Jenny's thoughts when he replied smoothly as he grinned at the Director. "Why call so early in the morning Director? Did we have something to discuss, purr-ivately?"

The waggling eyebrows and exaggerated accent had just the right effect. Jenny having recognized the opening, smiled smoothly as she answered.

"I guess we'll never find out now will we? Is there a problem Agent McGee?"

"Uh, uh," Timothy stammered before turning to his computer. He could have definitely lived the rest of his life happily without knowing that little tidbit of his co-workers' personal lives. "Nothing ma'am."

"McGee," Tony was back to business. "Cellphone!"

"The phone we found at the scene is down with Abby," McGee responded instantly. "And she's double checking but she told me it's Gibbs'. It's the standard NCIS issued cellphone, the serial numbers match the one we gave Gibbs, and there's even the good luck sticker Abby had added inside. Abby's also checking if she can get any information of who Gibbs called last but I doubt we'll find anything. The cellphone was damaged badly, almost shattered in half," Timothy grimaced at the memory of the blood smattered across the broken screen. "Abby'll call us when she gets anything."

"Alright, so Gibbs's cellphone is with us. Then where's Layman's phone?" Tony turned to Ziva. "You guys didn't find it at the scene?"

"No," Ziva answered steely. "We've looked everywhere and although the lack of light limited our view we searched the place downside up."

"Upside down," Tony corrected absentmindedly as he rubbed his chin. "What are the chances of Layman not having a cellphone at all?"

"Not impossible but slim," Ziva answered. "If they wanted to eliminate all traces then meeting in person would have been the safest way. However if they were to meet without any sort of communication beforehand they would have had to choose a location. It would have been difficult for Layman to keep a low profile if he were to meet somebody often.

"It would be safe to say that Gibbs took Layman's cellphone," Ziva reasoned as she wrung her hands together, pacing back and forth. "They got in a fight, Gibbs' phone broke in the process. Gibbs sees Layman's phone and takes it. It's perfectly logical and it would explain the call we received forty minutes ago. You know, the call McGee can't track."

"Thanks a lot," Timothy muttered from his desk. "He hung up before we could pick up the signal. She has a point though. The time frame fits; Layman's TOD was about zero-one-thirty and somebody called the NCIS building at zero-one-thirty-eight. It could be Gibbs."

"But why run?" Tony grabbed the remote and flipped through the pictures of the crime scene on the plasma screen. "If he waited twenty minutes, we would have been there to back him up. Something happened that he couldn't stay there. He had to move."

"Maybe to keep his cover?" Ziva suggested.

"The mission was over the moment Layman died. Gibbs would have known that Zee-vah."

"Then to take cover."

"That's what I've been thinking," Tony ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. "But from what?"

**Thursday 2:31 P.M.**

He had a phone. It was the kind you could get at any store without even ID and though it was badly battered, it didn't seem to be broken. While waiting for the phone to turn on, the man closed his eyes and tried to calm the aching in his head. Tiny voices were screaming for attention but he chose to ignore them all; his bleeding leg was first.

By the time he managed to pull himself up and lean against the wall, the cellphone had fully turned on. He realized with only one good arm he couldn't apply pressure to his wound and use the phone at the same time. He grimaced as he wiped the blood on his shirt before picking up the mobile phone.

Great, all dressed up but no where to go. The man thought glumly as he looked through the cellphone number directory. There wasn't a single number saved in the phone, not a single number he could call for help. Sure there always was the option of calling 911 but he felt that he would rather not. The reason for such a preference mostly had to do with the gun he had in his hand when he woke up.

8345. He noticed a number that caught his eye in the history list. At around one fourty, a phone call had been made once. He couldn't remember actually making the phone call but judging from the time it must have been a call he made before he fell unconscious. There was no time for doubts and second guessing; he was starting to lose feeling in his leg. He pressed 'redial' and gingerly brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

On the first ring, a man picked up. The voice was mature, but young enough to make the man wonder if he had made the right call; he had been expecting a friend, preferably around the same generation.

"Hello? Who is this?"

At the question, he searched for an answer.

"Boss? Is it you? Answer me if it is Boss."

"Who..." The injured man managed to heave before breaking into coughs.

"It's me McGee Boss- Ow! That's my foot Tony! Don't push-"

"Gibbs!" A second voice broke into the conversation, another male voice but with a deeper touch of maturity. Gibbs took a deep breath as the rising panic in his chest died down. "Boss it's me Tony! Where are you? Can you hear us? The signal from your phone is weak and we can't find trace you."

The voices were turning into buzzes as the pain he had kept at bay wrapped themselves around him. He struggled to keep grip of the phone but the wave of security was sucking his will to stay awake.

"Hey, Boss? Boss?"

He was safe now. An overwhelming wave of relief told him that and it was merely seconds before he would fall prey to the darkness closing in. However before he gave in, he realized he wanted the answer to one question.

"Boss, don't pass out on us-"

"Who.." He asked weakly. "Am I?"

When nothing but stunned silence answered, a blood stained cellphone clattered to the ground as Leroy Jethro Gibbs closed his eyes.

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Yes sadly Gibbs is concussed (again) and is suffering partial memory loss(again).


	2. Chapter 2

**Thursday, 2:34P.M.**

The four agents stood as they stared into the empty silence. The question from their friend rang in their ears before Ziva stated quietly.

"We should start looking for him."

"McGee," The ex-cop turned away from the phone and looked at the junior agent. Timothy followed the gesture instinctively turning to the man who he believed would have the answers. When the Senior Field Agent met his gaze without a trace of fear or hesitation, Timothy allowed himself to relax. Gibbs was missing without a clue of who he was, and Tony, out of all the people, wasn't worried. There was nothing to worry about; they would find Gibbs.

Maybe years later Timothy would realize the fear was never non-existent but far greater than anybody else, only the Italian knew his responsibilities as a team leader. He was not going to demoralize his team; all the fear and worries were rolled up and folded away into the deep depths of the green eyes so nothing was visible but the sheer determination. For his team and their leader. "Did you catch the cell phone?"

"No. The signal's too weak. The signal dies whenever I get a fix so I can't narrow it down. Wherever Gibbs is, he's in a dead zone."

"A dead zone?" Jenny repeated.

"The area where the signal just dies," McGee explained. "It happens when the phone can't find a cell site antenna."

"Wait, then are you saying Gibbs isn't in the city? That he's in some boondock?"

"No not exactly. A cellphone needs at least three cell sites but right now Gibbs's phone can only find two. His signal is recieved by this tower, and this tower meaning he has to be somewhere within the radius of the two towers. It can happen in cities too, think about when you're in an elevator and you can't hear the person on the other end well. Or when you're in basements and you have to move toward the window."

"How thick do the walls have to be to block the signal? We can start eliminating from there."

"It's not just about the walls. Gibbs could be in a basement of a house that doesn't have an antenna. It's too risky to eliminate houses on the basis of a single factor. At this point, the only thing we can be sure of is that he's within this perimeter, in the area where the two towers radius overlap."

"Alright then, McGee's deduction left us with fifty neighborhoods, three hundred houses to search, and an average of twelve hundred people to qeustion. Freakin fantastic," The green eyes, which had been skimming through the streets on the map, stopped. "Hey, isn't-"

"Gibbs! Tony, Gibbs picked up again!" Ziva shouted snapping her fingers with one hand, and pressing the headsets to her ear with the other.

Every agent's attention instantly averted to the buzzing in their ears.

"McGee, I get it but you still have to try to minimize the area more," Tony took a deep breath before asking. "Boss?"

**2:37 PM Thursday**

"Boss?"

The voice was gentle but Gibbs still flinched in surprise. He hastily fumbled for the phone he had flipped open mere seconds ago before.

"Damn," Gibbs growled as he curled his shaking fingers around the mobile phone. The man on the other end had woken him up before he had even realized he was asleep, and the abrupt awakening left Gibbs very cranky. "What 'hell d'ya want?"

"Wow," Came the response after a second's pause. "You sound like yourself already Boss. Okay Boss, put the phone on speaker and place it on the floor. You need your hands to place pressure on your wound right?"

"How-"

"We found a bullet with your blood," A female voice explained not unkindly. "We can get details later so please refrain from speaking right now and only answer the questions. Where were you hurt Gibbs?"

He couldn't have answered in sentences even if she had asked him to but he found the offer comforting.

"Leg." Gibbs grunted.

"Where are you?"

Gibbs strained his neck to see beyond the shadows, and regretted it almost instantly; a surge of nasuea blurred his vision as he fought to keep the bile where it belonged. He failed miserably.

A basement, was all he managed.

**Thursday, 2:39 AM **

"Oh dear," The Scottish ME frowned. "It sounds like he's throwing up."

"Not on the cellphone I hope," Unlike the sarcastic bite to her tone, Jenny's eyes were wet. She stepped back and quickly rubbed her eyes but nobody took heed. Doctor Mallard was now on the phone, insuring that Gibbs would be given immediate medical attention once he was found. Ziva and Tmothy were focusing on the actual task of finding Gibbs; the Mossad Agent was trying to calm Gibbs enough to get him to talk again whereas the MIT graduate struggled to keep a fix on the phone long enough to get an accuarate location. Tony was...

Jenny watched the agent who was the only still figure apart from herself. He was slightly leaning against his desk, knuckles curled around the edge of the table as he listened to his team leader's hackings. He bore a look that made Jenny wonder exactly who was the one in more pain.

"His breathing is labored. It should be time for his fever to spike," Ducky who had finished making arrangements warned the team. "His condition is detoriating rapidly. We don't have much time left. Yes Director?"

Ducky looked at the Director who had pulled him a few steps away from the rest of the team.

"Doctor, it hasn't been long since Jethro recovered from the last explosion. What would happen if he's concussed again?"

Not wanting to distress Jenny further, the ME chose his words carefully.

"He would be highly susceptible to carious neurological conditions that may cause serious damage. However," Ducky squeezed his friend's arm. "There is a chance that the concussion itself is mild and it is the delay in medical treatment that has caused this. We must hope that is the case."

"He doesn't remember who he is. It doesn't sound anything close to mild, Doctor." Jenny whispered, her eyes never leaving the agents in the bullpit. Ducky followed her gaze as he answered slowly.

"That is why, we must hope."

**Thursday, 2:42A.M.**

When the nausea died down- or at least, became bearable- Gibbs tore himself away from the aftermaths of it. He wrapped his good hand around the leg of a table beside him and pulled.

"GIbbs? Can you hear us?"

Crap, he had left the cell behind. He leaned for the phone, nearly having another fit of vomiting in the process; the mixed smell of various human biohazardous wastes did not help calm his stomach. HIs vision was starting to fail, and he had to grope for the small device. Once it was back in his lap, Gibbs scooted closer to the cover of table that would make him less vulnurable against intruders.

Either the world was coming to an end, or his sight was failing him but the basement was blurrier by the minute. Realizing he did not have much time before not only his eyesight but everything failed all together, Gibbs searched wildly for something, anything that would he could work in his advantage. And that was when Gibbs's attention fell on the flight of stairs to the basement that he remembered why he was here.

It was Wednesday night.

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Technically, it's Thursday morning, I know. Thanks for reading!


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